On August 20, 2001 my first son Benjamin rocketed into the world. As he drew his first breath at 2:50 PM and wailed at the indignity of being expelled from my uterus, I wonder if, hundreds of miles away, a college student named Dave felt something stirring within him. I can’t be sure. School was just starting for him. Parenthood was probably the last thing on his mind.
But on that day, Dave became a parent. He just didn’t know it yet.
Two years later, in January of 2003, his first child, Benjamin, a nearly-mute 2-year old reached up his arms and allowed Dave to pick him up. It was a rarity for Ben to allow someone he’d just met minutes beforehand to hold him. Even more rare was that he bonded with him instantly. Two hours later, safely in my car, he spoke his fourth sentence. “Aw…bye, Dave.” Over and over, he repeated that, sighing sadly after every repetition.
“Aw, BYE DAVE….*sighs*”
On September 10, 2005, my son Benjamin walked me down the aisle. At the alter, Dave spoke his vows first to our son, then to me. The child who is not related–by blood, at least–to my husband, he is the one who is most like The Daver. Always has been.
March 30, 2007, Benjamin Maxwell became a big brother to Alexander Joseph. Dave slumbered on through my labor thanks to a migraine, but was there by my side to watch as his second son came into the world. Angrier than a wet cat, Alex met his father by peeing on him. I found it apt, considering I would have dragged my numb ass over to kick DAVE’S sleeping ass, had I been able to.
Alex was, as he always is, on my side.
On January 28, 2009, our last child came into the world surrounded by chaos. The girl with curls like a halo (who kicks ass), Amelia Grace, she cast her big brown eyes upon us and nothing has been the same.
Today, April 15, 2010, at 1:45 PM we said goodbye to that part of our lives. No more will we welcome more children into the world, but we will help our children grow and learn about this crazy, mixed-up, wonderful world that we live in.
I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a little heartbroken to see Dave’s vas deferens sitting in those jars, sadly separated from his body. Not because I want any more children, or because I’m unhappy with the decision that we made. It was time to put that part of our lives to bed.
So I’m going to take a quote from my then-two-year old because I don’t know how else to end this bittersweet day.
Aw, bye, vas deferens.